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 Mar 2021
Scarlet McCall
This old house is a crumblin’ down
This old house is a tumblin’ down
The paint is peeling
water drips from the ceiling
and the foundation’s sinking
into the ground.

The wiring’s faulty and the floors have a tilt.
The ground it was built on was actually silt.
The basement has rats,
the attic’s got  bats
and the neighborhood’s ruled by feral cats.

The driveway needs paving;
just who will be saving
this rotten old house at the end of the road?

I’d build a new house if only I could.
If I could do it, you know I would.
But I can’t tear it down and begin again.
It’s my home and I'm here to the end.
 Mar 2021
InkHarted
why am I invisible
until there's smoke puffing from the end of the barrel
why am I hated when I am not in sight
how can people smile at me
and make me feel like it passes right through
why do people find me a burden
when all I wanted was a smile
I haven't outlived the experienced
but I can tell now
the world isn't spinning
its twisting.
 Mar 2021
atticus wilson
In the silence of the night I sit and meditate
Let my mind wander through distant thoughts
Explore the chaos of my own mind

Between the whirring of the fan’s blades
I could only think one though
To a poem dark and twisted

“You’re flying now
You see things much more clear than the ground
It’s all okay
Or it would be
Were you not now halfway down”

My mind shuts off
“Erase this from my thoughts” I whisper
But there it stayed, louder, quicker
Until it’s all I could hear
 Feb 2021
George van Horn
Color your darkness
embed your glistening gloss
the best secrets
are those untold
a thief with a house key
unheard words
are those desired most
so color your darkness
a black rainbow
is still a rainbow
they may not see the beauty
But that's what makes it yours
 Feb 2021
George van Horn
A man is just a hammer
You learn to swing your weight as a boy
Shut your mouth, and do your job
An artist can’t be a man
His perspective is too vast
For something so narrow
His lens
Too wide
His soul
Too harrowed
The artist is a *****
Bashed by the hammer
A nail can be plucked back
Out of danger
When the placement doesn't work
But an artist?
He takes his beating
some big, dumb bumbling man
Clattered him over his head and he’ll never be free again
The artist adjusts to his hapless circumstances
He can’t move
All he can do is bellow out his bests
While being burdened by his worst
A man is a hammer
A man kills a boy
So an artist could be born
 Feb 2021
Prevost
My hands are now my father’s hands
baked and beaten by a life
the scars of toil and weather
mark passages

knuckle busting bolts
sun wind cold
and misguided hammers
sculpted these derma landscapes

I hold them under the water
as the ocean and I return
they become distant and diffused
as they gently float away
 Feb 2021
Rollercoaster
I find the charging sky lights to be
disorienting and pure.
Black and white at same time.

It’s a rainbow in the clouds after the rain
and succeeding the dark clouds which make me sane.

I am aware that rain will come again,
yet I don’t know when I will be rain-bound.
Each turn is a change in the circle of pain.

When the lightning strikes,
we look at the bright, white flash of light.
White pierces through the dark,
and confounds us and leaves us looking at the stars.

We wait for it to strike,
only for it to come at the most unexpected of times.
We must not be confused, or surprised.

We should rejoice when things go awry.
For it will too pass, and change will evade.
The earned hope will remain.

For chaos and the unexpected are change,
and change is the inevitable truth which cannot be tamed.
We’re celebrating the chaos and celebrating change.
We’re celebrating the inevitable when we dance in the rain.
Everything is in a circle, it a cycle of interconnectedness or several cycles of interconnectedness which are themselves connected to each other. It is the same storyline, a basic plot line that follows a similar story from the past and everything repeats itself. So, it does not matter what the end goal might be, it is about the experience and the change that will give us a greater understanding. Living though the motions, looking at the circle go, and know a greater story exists and you just have to fill in the blanks to make it your own - to make your cycle of birth and death meaningful and like a ring with a lot of engravings on them and then hanging that ring in an a larger ring that involves the entire existence. Not just your existence, but everything that exists which is also going through the motions and is following the circle and engraving its own little and large details on the Ring of existence.
And at every turn point of the ring, which is almost at every point, there is change and there is chaos.
We think of rain to be release- from winter cold or summer heat. Release from the uniformity of suffering. Yet, rain comes in as chaos. We do not know when it will come and how the raindrops will fall. They will fall as they want to - in utter chaos. After uniformity, comes change. Change comes in form of chaos. And navigating in that chaos i.e. dancing in the rain is thriving and celebrating each little raindrop as it is. We’re celebrating the chaos and celebrating change. We’re celebrating the inevitable when we dance in the rain.
 Feb 2021
Jesse Haydn
I exist
a vector
impossible opposites
left and right
height and depth
darkness and brightness
unitary and shattered
shadow and body
unconverging.

 
An entire universe
on a speck of dust
lingering on a ray of sunshine,
gently falls
and finds its rest among the many
(the conformed
tangled aggregate)

 
finally settling into oblivescence
out of mind
and just yesterday,
was briefly remarkable.

 
Inexorably swayed
as he murmured a breath
of oblivion-
I am now
aimless
forgotten
on the other side
of space and time.

 
-Jesse Haydn
 Feb 2021
Michelle Rose
Night thoughts
Swimming
Humming sounds
Wounds
Uproar
Mingling mingling
Up and down
Float

Through seas
Through words
Through nice things
Colored pictures

Paint
Higher up
Higher than that
Keep painting

Uproar
Over it
Over the noises
Over the voices

Fade into it
Over the noises
Over the voices
Under the sounds  
Fade

Into it
Now
sleep
More thoughts
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